


Love and Anarchy

by LKid13



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: All of the space references, Consent, Feelings, Gay Sex, I cried so much writing this, Low-Key Smut, M/M, Men is too headache, Relationship Negotiation, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, angsty bullshit, casual alcohol use, ethical non-monogamy, relationship anarchy, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21735328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LKid13/pseuds/LKid13
Summary: I first watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2017, and Sebastian Stan became one of the 12-15 people I'm in love with at any given time. If your life has been ruined by Sebastian Stan, you know there is a lot of documented evidence that *maybe* he and Chris Evans had a sexual and/or romantic relationship as early as 2010. The last documented non-Marvel interaction between the two of them happened in May 2017 when Chris was living in NYC to do the play Lobby Hero. Sebastian attended an early performance in that run. Shortly after that time, the two of them stopped mentioning each other in interviews and Chris started getting very protective of Steve Rogers' relationship with Peggy (rather than Bucky) as his time in the MCU wound down. [Yes, I know CA:TWS came out in 2014. I didn't hear about it until 2017.]This is my Relationship Anarchist take on The End of EvanStan.This is my love letter to Sebastian Stan, with the hope that both he and Chris get everything they've ever wanted in love and anarchy.CONTENT WARNING: If this is your ship and you want to kill me for breaking them up, please just move on.All of my love to Ninjacooter for the beta.
Relationships: Chris Evans & Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan, evanstan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. SoHo cocktail bar, sometime around midnight

He rolled his Old Fashioned back and forth between his palms, watching the door. These pretentious Manhattan cocktail lounges weren’t really his scene but he is an Actor with a Stylist so he could fake his way past the queued up masses. He could roll up like a baller because he had been Captain Fucking America and a National Fucking Treasure. Or something. Did anyone even use the term “baller” anymore? The band played a piano cover of “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” but he knew he’d been forgotten. He’d gone there to remember and he’d been forgotten. It made his stomach flip.

They were still as close as he’d ever been with someone he’d worked with, probably closer. On the surface nothing had changed. The group text between them and Mackie continued with dirty jokes, links to weird news and space exploration discoveries, and videos of cute animals. It was all soft, sweet, platonic male friendship. They saw Anthony through his divorce, Seb through his Golden Globes snub, Chris through letting Steve Rogers go, and the three of them through the changes life brings in 6 years. Seb and Chris had a text chain that went back through a collective 12 new phones and 9 years. He got lost in the nostalgia of it all.

He went there every time he flew from LA to Boston, always booking an overnight stay at The James before continuing on to Boston sometime the next day. It had been a couple of years, probably longer, since this plan had worked. Maybe Sebastian didn’t come here anymore? Maybe his timing had been off, or maybe Sebastian hadn’t been in town? Their most recent messages had indicated that the three of them were all headed back to home bases for a few days of downtime before new projects, new plans, and more fucking meetings started.

The whole thing stank of desperation. How fucking dare he just show up looking for… what the hell was he looking for? What the hell was he expecting? They saved and salvaged a friendship out of what could’ve been a major shitshow that derailed a couple of big budget movies. As he was fond of saying, a lot of things could’ve gone wrong and they didn’t so let’s be happy that they stuck the landing and it all turned out for the best. Let’s be content that it ended as well as it did. _Right?_

He’d meant to come in for just one drink and to stick around until midnight, but before he realized it was closer to 1 AM and he’d gulped his fourth cocktail. If it weren’t for Don Draper, he’d have no idea what to order in a place like this. How could a bar call itself a bar if they didn’t serve beer… oh right… it was a _lounge_.

Deciding to not wait for the server, Chris weaved his way from the posh booth that suddenly felt too small and confining toward the bar. One more for the road, then he’d pass out face down on his pillow-top hotel bed and pay the price of his emotional bullshit in the morning. To his right he saw a white dress shirt glow under the black lights illuminating the bar as the man removed his suit jacket. That fucking jacket was velvet. There’s only one person he knows who could pull off such a…

The room spun a complete revolution as he immediately recognized the cautious grin that appeared below furrowed brows of confusion and concern as the man picked up his gin and tonic from the bar. 

“Chris! How are you, buddy?” Sebastian’s face softened as he threw his arm around him in a brotherly side hug. “What’re you doing in New York?” He took a single sip from his drink but held it out in front of him as if it could keep Chris at a safe distance.

“I… I’m good. Just a stopover on the way home.”

“Good. Home is good,” Sebastian knew his neighbourhood was a long way from JFK or LaGuardia. There were nicer hotels in Midtown. It was faster to hire a car service to take him from the airport to Boston than to wait for a plane the next day. There was no reason for Chris to be standing in a SoHo cocktail lounge three blocks from Sebastian’s apartment after midnight on a Thursday night in July. Sebastian’s face didn’t give away what he thought of Chris’ location.

The band played “If You Leave” and it was a kick in the sternum, a reminder of the time he found out that he’d fucked up and lost being part of the most beautiful couple who never really was. Sebastian had posted a gleeful car karaoke video the day after Chris’ birthday two years ago. His 36th birthday. Plans fell apart that week and, if he’s honest in his use of the passive voice, that was really the end and the past 25 months had just been his futile attempts to jam their lightning back in it’s bottle.

“ _Don’t look baaaaack…_ ” the singer crooned.

Chris took two large swallows of his drink and put it down next to Sebastian’s. Sebastian heard the song too and looked at his feet. They ended up staring at each other for a lingering moment. Chris tried to say something but was left open-mouthed when Sebastian found his words first.

“Yeah. So. I just swung by to have a nightcap on my way home,” Sebastian leveled his gaze at Chris, drained his glass, and placed it on the bar. “It’s good to see you. You’re looking well. Let me know the next time you’re stopping over so it’s not a big surprise.”

Chris breathed in and tried to remember the name of the cologne Sebastian wore. It was expensive, Humphrey Bogart wore it. It will remind him of Sebastian until the end of time. He doesn’t remember the name but knows it will come to him eventually. Probably at an inopportune moment.

“I don’t leave until 4 PM tomorrow,” Chris blurted out when he realized he’d been too long in responding.

Sebastian paused as he moved away from Chris.

“Any plans for food tomorrow?”

“My schedule is clear. I was going to call Scarlett to see if she could arrange brunch if…”

What he wanted to say was “if I didn’t run into you,” but what he did say is,

“if it’s possible. Or if she’s even in town. I don’t know what I’m doing here but I’m so glad to see you. I have a booth over there. Can we talk?”

“You’re drunk. I’m with friends. I’m headed home. How about...” Sebastian considered his options for the next day and Chris’s 4 PM flight.

“How about you come by my place at 11 AM and I’ll get some brunch delivered?”

“You still live in the same place?” Chris knew Sebastian hadn’t moved. This was his Oscar unworthy attempt at nonchalance.

“Yeah. I’ll let the doorman know you’re coming.”

“Okay, 11 AM. Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself. Talk to you tomorrow, buddy.” Sebastain reached out and squeezed his shoulder with a small smile and warm eyes filled with affection. 

_The memory nearly took him out at the knees when it hit him._

_They’re a naked, wet mess of sweat, lube and come and Sebastian is looking at him like he’s just hung the moon and the stars. They’re forehead to forehead mumbling words of love and devotion into each other’s lips and it’s perfect and..._

Sebastian pulled his jacket on as a man and woman called out his name in unison. 

“Sebastian... Let’s go if we’re walking,” the woman’s voice had a sweet, flirty tone that Chris was convinced was mocking him.

Sebastian winked and shrugged at Chris, his face that feigned look of innocence he used to put on when they would sneak off. He took the pretty brunette’s hand and slid an arm around her male companion’s waist as they bolted for the door. He planted a kiss on her cheek and patted his lower back as the door closed behind them.

“Don’t look back.” Chris mumbled to himself.

Chris picked up his glass, downed the last mouthful, asked the bartender for 2 ounces of that Canadian rye from the Old Fashioned, neat. When it was delivered he threw down his credit card, picked up the glass and knocked it back in a single motion.

How fucking dare he think he could just impose himself on Sebastian like this? Who the fuck does this? Who the fuck does he think he is? But what the fucking fuck was that? Who were those people? What the hell was going on?

He got his card back and pushed himself out into the warm summer street. His hotel was… over there somewhere? He crossed the street with the signal and walked for a block in what he hoped was the opposite direction of Sebastian’s place and in the direction of his hotel. He was bleary-eyed, sad, emotionally wrung out and sleepy. He stood under a street light and wanted to scream but there were people around. He wasn’t sure he cared what they thought. He stopped, leaned against the light standard, and bent over at the waist.

He felt hopeless and homeless and drunk. He tried to make himself throw up in the gutter but nothing came. No one needed to know that the world was falling down around him. This was the price he had to pay if there was any, any chance of repairing the past.

“Hey… you okay?” A stranger asked him. “You need some help or something?”

“No. I just saw a ghost. Which way to The James Hotel?’

“Two blocks that way. Five minute walk, 15 minute stagger.” The stranger pointed down a street he’d had no intention of walking down before that moment.

“Thanks. I got it.” He pushed himself off the light pole and walked toward the hotel.

_Tabarome Millesime by Creed. Woody scents and tobacco. That’s what Sebastian smells like._

He had to see Sebastian the next day even though he knew it would rend him in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 Notes:
> 
> This is a really basic bitch song fic based on Sometime Around Midnight - Airborne Toxic Event.
> 
> https://youtu.be/UYPoMjR6-Ao
> 
> My endless love again to Ninjacooter for getting me to write about these two.
> 
> I'm also the kind of basic bitch who watches what these two beautiful angsty dorks say about each other and how they interact.  
> There is no heterosexual explanation for the way Evans hugs Sebastian during the entirety of the Asian press junket for Civil War and don't fucking @ me.


	2. SoHo apartment, sometime around 11 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where #MenIsTooHeadache

The doorman recognized him. It had been a while since he’d been to Sebastian’s place, not since Chris was living in Tribeca back when he was in Lobby Hero.

“Mr. Evans, nice to see you again. Congratulations on Endgame. Mr. Stan is expecting you.”

They nodded at each other as Chris punched the button for the elevator.

“Thank you… Craig, right?”

“You got it.”

The elevator dinged and Chris stepped inside. As it ascended, Chris felt like he was being rocketed toward his doom.

He knew there was no way he would be leaving this place with what he wanted. Sebastian had clearly moved on to… what? Playing unicorn* for some bored and boring suburban couple looking to spice up their sex life? Overly affectionate friendships? Craigslist casual encounters? His mind swam with the possible options.

Chris arrived at Sebastian’s door with a mouthful of cotton, a stomach in knotted up ropes, and his heart on his sleeve. Sebastian’s place used to be the safest place in New York City, maybe the world, but in that moment it only felt like lost opportunities and regret. He paused at the door to smooth his hair when Sebastian opened the door. They both jumped back from each other in surprise.

“Craig… he calls when people arrive. I wasn’t sure you’d remember which door was mine,” Sebastian released a breath he’d clearly been holding. “Hi. Please come in.”

When the door closed behind them, Chris reached for Sebastian to pull him into an embrace and Sebastian held him at arm’s length and turned it into a two-hand back clapping BroHug and Chris wished Sebastian had just cold-cocked him in the face instead.

“Good to see you. Food just arrived before you did, so we shouldn’t have to do any reheating.” Sebastian seemed to be keeping his expressions and movements small, as though he could stay under Chris’ radar if he could only shrink down tight enough. It crushed the remaining pieces of his heart.

They sat at the bartop kitchen island and Sebastian slid a coffee cup and two Advil toward Chris.

“Skinny latte, extra hot, extra foam. Pills for your head.”

“You remembered my favourite!” Chris’ chest swelled. Maybe Sebastian didn’t love him anymore, but he didn’t hate him, at least.

“Of course? I ordered enough of them for you over the years. And I’ve been drunk with you enough to know you’ll suffer through a headache all day if not practically force-fed pain killers.” Sebastian’s voice was gentle and teasing in acknowledgment of their private history and their surprise meeting the night before.

Chris swallowed the pills with a mouthful of coffee and a half-smile. Sebastian stood to plate their food and then sat back down on the bar stool next to him. He raised his own coffee cup and offered up a toast.

“To friends,” and he lit up his trillion watt smile directly at Chris. Chris wanted to drop to his knees and beg Sebastian for… for what? Chris was sure there were no words that would convince Sebastian they could be… something. He would’ve done anything for Sebastian’s affection in that moment. Sebastian was offering him food, but that wasn’t what he was starving for.

“Eat up. That flight to Boston is a bore, might as well get a carb coma going,” Sebastian didn’t look at Chris as they sat beside each other, the inches between them a canyon of unspoken pleas, broken promises, and pent up emotion.

They made small talk about mutual friends and industry gossip as they picked through their french toast, eggs and bacon. They didn’t make eye contact as they talked, but each of them stole sideways glances while the other was shovelling food onto a fork. That’s how it went until their plates and coffees were empty. Chris turned to Sebastian and waited for him to look his way.

“Seb, I’m sorry.”

A sigh the size of the five boroughs burst from Sebastian’s chest.

“Well, this is a nightmare, right?” Sebastian looked straight ahead, and gave Bucky’s thousand yard stare a run for its money in the buried pain department.

“Tell me what I need to say or do or whatever for you to love me again, Seb.”

“You are such a fucking idiot.” Sebastian laughed, still not looking at Chris. “There is no universe that exists where I don’t love you, even if we don’t know each other.”

“I… how is that a thing? How can you love me if you don’t know me?”

“You know those times in your life when you’re seeking something, pining away for something and you just can’t put your finger on it but you know you need something that’s missing, right?”

Chris could only nod.

“That’s the universe’s way of letting you know you’re missing a part of your soul. Sometimes it’s what you’re doing but more often it’s telling you that someone is also missing you and you just have to keep going until they get there.”

“That’s really beautiful.”

“Or the world’s greatest excuse for substance abuse. I don’t fucking know.”

That time Chris laughed.

“What happened to us, Seb? I was really used to being the one you loved and then everything just _shifted_ suddenly with no explanation.”

“No fucking explanation, my fucking ass. You bailed on me, on us, and then you wonder why everything has changed? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Chris was taken aback.

“Seb, we’d cancelled stuff on short notice before…”

“No. YOU cancelled shit on short notice before. I never once…” Sebastian looked ready to smash everything. “It took you three fucking weeks to respond to my messages.”

“In my defense, Shanna played your car karaoke video for me and I thought you could use some space.”

Sebastian stared at Chris dumbfounded.

“Yeah, because it had to be about you, right?”

“It wasn’t?”

“I started a movie in August where I played a character who lived in the 80s. It was on my character playlist and I like singing in the car.” Sebastian refrained from killing Chris with his bare hands. “Just a stupid video for the ‘Gram. I can’t even… what the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It seemed kind of personal. I’m sorry if I read something into it that wasn’t there,” Chris made the “oops” shrug, unable to defend himself any further.

“This is Peak Evans. You’re a piece of work, truly.” Sebastian started laughing.

“I’m sorry, Seb. So sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never…”

“Exactly. You never…” Sebastian finally looked at Chris. Chris had never seen Sebastian’s dagger eyes trained in his direction before. 

“You came to New York yesterday, showed up at my local, and thought you could grand gesture yourself back into my good graces and my bed, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t not try, but I didn’t think it would work.” Chris kept his eyes on the floor.

“At least you don’t think I’m a pushover.” Sebastian sneered. “You didn’t have to come back for me. You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“But I did. It’s been a miserable couple of years without you.” Chris eyes pleaded with Sebastian to listen to him.

“Absolutely not my problem.” Sebastian held his jaw firm. “I’m done with you haunting me.”

Chris choked on nothing.

“I’m stronger now. I was able to make hard choices neither of us had previously been able to face.” Sebastian’s tone was almost defiant.

“What fucking choices?”

“To stop believing that we’d make all the choices we told each other we were going to make and then never did, Chris. There was no “us” to choose, so I chose me. In an emergency landing, you put your own oxygen mask on first.” Sebastian chewed on his lower lip and kept his gaze on the tabletop.

“What emergency?”

Sebastian exhaled again and opened his mouth to speak but the words seemed to fail at the tip of his tongue. He got up from the bar stool and walked to the living room. He opened a humidor on the end table, pulling out two Winstons from the wooden box.

“I smoke so infrequently now that packs were always going stale. A friend gave me his old humidor when he quit. So it works at keeping just plain cigarettes fresh. Do you still smoke sometimes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Notes:
> 
> *Unicorn - a third party who is willing to have sex with both other members in a threesome.
> 
> The car karaoke video posted the day after Chris' 36th birthday: https://www.instagram.com/p/BVVBzZUBwbX/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link


	3. SoHo rooftop terrace, sometime around noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where the end could be the beginning.

Chris hadn’t smoked in a long time, maybe a year and a half, but this seemed like a great idea. The two of them walked out on Sebastian’s roof terrace. Sebastian lit his cigarette and handed the lighter to Chris. They stood there again, side by side, staring out at the cityscape in front of them, and said nothing. 

Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Within a minute, their breaths were in sync and Sebastian snickered.

“Like there is no universe where I don’t love you, there’s also no universe where we can be ourselves and where we end up together with what we want.” 

“I don’t think we tried hard enough. I don’t think _I_ tried hard enough.”

“You didn’t, but it wouldn’t have worked anyway.” Sebastian finally turned to look at Chris and Chris did not look happy.

“When you didn’t show up for the birthday celebration I organized for you, I spent the next morning on the phone with my therapist and then at her office. We talked for five hours that day. I should send you the bill for that one because it was epically large and you’re the star of the highest grossing movie in history,” Sebastian joked again and Chris responded with his trademark shrug and grin.

“I called to tell you something came up. I didn’t just not show up.”

“The reasons for your cancellation aren’t important now. That day was the beginning of something for me. Something that I’m not sure you even want to understand.”

“Tell me. Please. Tell me how I lost you.”

“Have you not figured out that you haven’t lost me? Our relationship has changed, but we’re still Chris and Sebastian. We still have a relationship... it’s just different… it’s different from where we started.”

“I… yeah. I don’t get it. Explain it to me like I’m 7.”

“I spent my whole life, 35 years at that point, thinking there was a One True Love and that’s all you got and you were mine. As that One True Love you were the ultimate priority over everything and you must be protected at all costs. But what I came to realize is that there is no One True Love. There isn’t even a series of Ones. There’s just love. And you love everyone you love with the same love, it’s just the intensity and expression of love is different depending on where you are and what the relationship is.”

The two of them were sitting on the patio chairs by this point, eyes still scanning the horizon. Chris turned to look at Sebastian.

“So… you’re saying that you love your mom and me the same?”

“Don’t make me call you a moron, Evans. What I am saying is that I love you both, but I love her as a son, and I love you as my friend, as a former lover, as a confident, as a safe place, as a colleague and peer, as a co-worker, as one of my favourite humans, as… I hope you get the point. I love you. I won’t stop. But I will stop doing shit I regret with you.”

“What the fuck do you regret?” Chris’ voice was icy and angry.

“I regret that we learned to live half a life and made promises that we both knew we couldn’t keep.”

“I think we had a very full life.”

“Oh yeah, sneaking around hotels and convention centers and using the service entrance here, _at this very building_ , if there were paparazzo on the block, lying to our friends and families about what we were doing or where we were going. Not being on the same planes, or being at the same events unless it was Marvel related, never driving to work together. Fuck, I cheated on Margarita for a full fucking year until I had to break up with her so I could run to LA to be with you. Our very full life wasn’t allowed outside and deprived of natural light, it failed to thrive. That’s the fate of the Closeted Cases and it should be no surprise.”

Chris had a wounded look and his brow was pushed down so low it was in danger of sliding down to his chin.

“I had no idea you were so unhappy.”

“I wasn’t unhappy. It was enough until it wasn’t.”

“And I didn’t get a vote on whether it was enough?”

“Jesus Christ, Chris. Why the fuck would you think you had a vote on how _I_ feel about shit? You’re fucking better than that.”

“Fuck you.”

“I think that’s what started all this drama in the first place.” Sebastian delivered his best deadpan. “You fucked me.”

Chris wanted to still be angry but instead he burst out laughing.

“Yeah, you should’ve held out a bit longer and I would’ve lost interest in chasing you, I think.”

“Fuck you.”

“That wasn’t until two weeks later.” Chris met Sebastian’s deadpan with more deadpan and Sebastian choked out another laugh.

“Anyway… that was one of my biggest stumbling blocks with you. Changing the nature of our relationship meant I had to give up the most heartbreakingly beautiful dick I’d ever had and that was a tragedy. I mean, I could write sonnets and epic poetry to the good dick you gave me. You’re truly gifted.”

Chris choked, blushed, and stammered,

“Uh… thanks?” 

“You’re welcome.” Sebastian nodded and fought off the urge to salute him.

“So those couple times in Atlanta during Infinity War reshoots?”

“Yeah, I was cock struck and relapsed.”

“Sorry? I think?”

“Not sorry. Abstinence isn’t for everyone. Also, I was a huge coward who wouldn’t use my words to, you know, actually tell you that I needed to stop fucking you for a while.”

“For a while? So what you’re saying here is there’s a chance?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know well enough that you never say never. It jinxes it.”

“You don’t ever want to fuck me again?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I was superstitious.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

“But you said you love me?”

“I do love you. But what I’ve learned is that sometimes love is a thing you don’t have to do anything about.”

“What?” Chris used the most skeptical and incredulous tone he could muster under the circumstances.

“Humans have this drive, this need, this urgency to possess and hoard and OWN everything of value around them. We’re led to believe love is scarce and rare and fragile when all the evidence in the world shows that it’s plentiful, ubiquitous and strong enough to hold worlds together. We just need to let love be love sometimes. As a Buddhist, I thought you’d get the connection between desire and suffering.”

“Huh.”

“What time do you have to leave for the airport?”

“I have to pick up my stuff from the hotel and then be there for 2:30. I need to be through security by 3 at the latest. So,” Chris checked his watch. “I should probably go.”

“Damn. Okay. Can we put a pin in this conversation and continue it the next time you’re pretending to wait out a 24-hour stopover in New York?”

“Do you have plans tonight? I know it’s Friday, but I could change my flight to tomorrow and get another night at my hotel. I mean, if it’s okay. If you have the time. If it’s okay. If you wanted…” Chris rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor.

“Yeah, I have the time and I want to. If we run out of shit to talk about, we can watch a movie. The latest additions to the Criterion Collection just became available on Apple TV. And don’t worry about the hotel. I just redecorated the guest room and you can be my first guest.”

“You trust me and yourself enough to let me stay here.”

“I’m strong enough now to tell you no and you’re Chris Evans and you’ll respect that. Call the hotel and ask them to put your shit in a car and I’ll get Craig to bring it up. Let’s go in, you can use my laptop to change your flight.” Sebastian stood and pushed the door open, made a bowing gesture to Chris as he walked back into the apartment.

Sebastian fished his computer out from under the sofa and unlocked it for Chris. Setting it on the coffee table he gestured for Chris to sit down. When he did, his head snapped back at the photo that made up Sebastian’s wallpaper.

“Oh yeah, I keep those I love close.”


	4. SoHo apartment, sometime around 1 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where they talk about all the universes and what went down in Atlanta.

The computer’s wallpaper was a collage of photos. Sebastian and his mum at the first Captain America premiere, Sebastian and his friends from Rutgers when they met for his birthday last year, the boys from The Covenant, a cast photo from Gossip Girl with Leighton conveniently edited out, Margarita and her mom, group photos from wrap parties and premieres, and dead center, Mackie, Sebastian, Chris, from their last day on the Endgame set, covered in dirt and mud, costumes loosened and with parts missing. Mackie mugging for the camera, Sebastian pointing Bucky’s rifle at the photographer, and once again all of Chris’ focus was on the man to his right. He’s in profile and his smile could power the space station. Chris remembered that day. It wasn’t his last day, he still had more reshoots to do at that point. But he’d never forget that day.

That was the afternoon after Sebastian turned him down. Chris points a finger at the image.

“I remember that day. You left Atlanta that night. That’s the last time I saw you before the premiere.”

“That was the last day for a lot of things, but I’m glad you remember that day.”

“I don’t want to think about the day before.”

“Then don’t. Reschedule your flight. Call the hotel. I’ll dig up a snack and find us something to drink while you get your shit sorted.” Sebastian wandered off to the kitchen and then down the hall.

Chris made the call and got his flight changed to the next night, just in case Sebastian wanted to go to dinner with him before he left.

“Hey Seb, can you call down to Craig and tell him The James will have my stuff here in a town car in about 20 minutes.” Sebastian walked back into the living room, waved his phone, and made the call.

“Oh, wait, snacks. Be right back.”

Sebastian returned seconds later with pretzels, a veggie tray, and two beers. 

“I only have a 6 of Stella, hope that meets your beer snobbery approval.”

“It’s fine. I’d drink warm PBR to be able to finish this conversation with you.”

Then it’s Sebastian’s turn to use his skeptical and incredulous tone.

“I must have some poetically good dick.”

Chris snickered.

“It’s your ass. You’ve got a poetically great ass.”

“And here I thought you valued me for my witty banter, space knowledge, and sparkling conversation.”

“Yeah. That too, but dat ass though.”

Sebastian refused to encourage him or his nostalgia any further, so he closed the top of his laptop and slid it back under the sofa.

“I hope you don’t mind if we wait until Craig brings your luggage before we go on. I don’t want to be crying when it gets here.”

“You’re going to cry? I don’t want to do anything that makes you cry.”

“I don’t think I’ll cry, but I might. I cried a lot over you in the past two years. Sometimes talking about that time makes me cry again. It’s not that I’m sad now, but remembering when I was sad is… sad. Yanno?”

“I know.” 

“So let’s eat something and down these beers and then talk, figure out our future and then watch… 1984? Something else?”

“Let’s see what happens after we talk.”

Sebastian nodded and shoved a baby carrot in his mouth.

“Uhhuh.”

The knock on the door startled them and Sebastian jumped up in a flash. Craig had Chris’s stuff and offered to bring it in for them. He headed down the hall toward the master bedroom and Sebastian quickly redirected him in the opposite direction to the guest room. Craig shrugged and carried the bags away. Chris got up and met Craig outside the bedroom door, slipped him a 20 and thanked him. Then Craig slid back out of the apartment without looking at Sebastian directly.

“Presumptuous much, Craig?” Sebastian threw Olympic-level side-eye at the door.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure he’s seen us making out in the elevator before.”

“Oh. Yeah. That. Well, let’s pull the pin on our conversation.”

Chris took a deep breath. 

“Okay.”

“Yeah. Two years ago you really hurt me and what I wanted to do is lay waste to your life. Set it all on fire, salt the earth with your ashes. But instead, I reached out to my therapist.”

“That was a good call. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. In the moment I was sure there wasn’t a jury in the land that would convict me for any crime I committed against you. But thankfully, I guess, I realized I didn’t want to be a petty aggrieved queeny bitch gay stereotype, so I took your advice.”

“My advice?”

“Years ago, the sage Mr. Evans told me I should just tell my brain to ‘shhhhhhh’ in times of distress. So I did. And in that moment I knew I had to talk about this but my therapist was the only person I could talk to about you because she’s the only one who knew about us. So that was the call I made.”

“Thank you for not ruining my life.”

“Again, you’re welcome.

“Then what.”

“Nothing changed for awhile and there were 101 times over the next three months where I just wanted to drop whatever I was doing and run, fly, walk to wherever you were and throw myself at your feet and beg for your attention. I was in LA for all of August, and it was crazy-making not letting myself tell you I was there. In processing all of that I realized that sometimes, not all the time, not even most of the time, but sometimes I used sex as a way to numb my pain and... I really liked doing that. Falling back into an old pattern with you would’ve solved two of my problems; one that I was needy for attention and the other that I wanted to be with you. You knew me, you were safe, you loved me, and for that night or nights I could forget that we were living half lives. At that point, you represented my escape from having to face reality.”

“And what reality was that?”

“That there’s no universe where I get to be essentially me _and_ the canon love-interest of Christopher Robert Evans.”

Chris grabbed his chest and fell back, mock wounded style.

“That’s cold.”

“I cried for three days under the covers over that.” Sebastian choked back emotions and the potential tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I knew if I told you at the time, you’d show up at my door with some kind of Lloyd Dobler grand-gesture nonsense and promise me the world, sun, moon, and stars. And I would’ve believed you. You Fucker, I would have believed you because I believed you every other time.”

Chris moved to pull Sebastian close to him and Sebastian let him put his arm around his shoulders from the side. They just sat close like that for a few minutes until Chris managed to croak out,

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you set out with any ill intent. Or rather, I know you didn’t set out to hurt me. And I know I didn’t set out to hurt you. But we were hurting each other over and over. And I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t handle one more wound with your name on it.”

“How do you know there’s no universe with us together?” Chris leaned into Sebastian’s side but wouldn’t turn to look at him.

“Heh. My therapist gave me a challenge, tell her what my life looked like in five years if everything went right. Starting that day, what did my ideal life look like in five years?

‘On that day in five years, I was going to be 40. I wanted to be making great movies. I wanted to produce. I wanted an award or two. I wanted to be living as an out queer man. No press release or anything, but just going about normal romantic relationships without having to use the service elevator or doing cloak and dagger shit to get out of my hotel room in the morning. I wanted to have done a film in Romania. I wanted to still be living in Manhattan. And I wanted to love and be loved.”

“And none of that includes me?”

“Do you hear anything on that list that sounds like the life you want by the time you’re 41? With the possible exception of me producing films you could direct, none of the rest of my life includes enough space for the kids and dogs you want. You’ve already said that being out as bisexual is decades away for you, if ever. You’re a homebody who will travel for work but you’re not really into seeing the world. And you hated living in New York and there’s no universe where you would raise kids in an apartment in Manhattan,” Sebastian was on the verge of tears and his words were coming in breathy gasps. 

“I could totally... change what I wanted... to make room... for you or... you could totally change... what you wanted... to make room for me... but we’d be giving up... our essential natures to make that work,” he paused a moment to collect his breath and his thoughts.

“So that means I have to let you go to get what you say you want. But I don’t have to stop loving you for five seconds. So I didn’t. Two weeks after this revelation, I had to go to Atlanta for Infinity War reshoots. And seeing you, and knowing that I had to let you go, knowing that you and your love were my weakness, that’s how those couple of nights happened. I should’ve told you that was our goodbye.”

Chris was also on the verge of tears.

“That… explains so much.”

“How so?”

“You fucked me like you loved me.”

“I always fucked you like I love you because I did and do love you.”

“Yeah, but this was different. Do you remember the first night back in Atlanta?”

“Totally.”

“You were only scheduled for, was it 4 or 5 days?”

“Four. I was back with Mackie for the reshoot of some of the Wakanda stuff and yeah, I got dusted. I didn’t want to tell you it was over because, well, dumping you as you were starting Endgame seemed a little too pointed. You were losing Steve Rogers, and your Marvel family you built over a decade, I didn’t want to give you any more loss. Plus, I was a huge coward.”

“Thanks for that. It was a pretty emotional time. I don’t know how I would’ve handled my wrap if I knew you were also gone. But I knew something had changed. The first night was a sign, but that last night before your last day... That night lives on my skin to this day.”

“The first night I practically kicked in your hotel room door. And you welcomed me in like nothing had changed. It was Singapore all over again.” Chris’ voice wavered at the end. “You were amazing. You gave everything to me, let me take what I wanted, and I will never forget how you moaned and pushed back into me as I held you down and fucked you into the mattress. But two nights later…” Chris looked lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah,” was all Sebastian could sigh.

“You knocked on my door. When I opened up, you pushed though like you wanted to barrel over me. Threw me up against the wall as soon as the door clicked. You grabbed my wrist, pinned it above my head, put your thumb into the hollow of my throat and wrapped your hand around my neck as you kissed me. Once I was breathless you pulled away and groaned into my ear…”

“‘Do you trust me?’ And all I could do was nod because I’d never seen this… you… before.”

Sebastian shrugged.

“When I found my words, I said yes. You started undressing me and wouldn’t let me move a muscle except to step out of my pants or get my shirt over my head. I’d never been more grateful for wearing sweatpants in my life.”

Sebastian snickered.

“You took my chin in one hand, kissed me desperate and needy like I was giving you life. You put your mouth everywhere, along my jaw, my shoulder, my chest, my bicep, even inside my elbow, my wrist, my palm. You traced my abs with your tongue, kissed along my groin, down my thighs, my knee, down my calves, until you were in a heap on the floor kissing the inside of my ankle.”

Sebastian watched a shiver flow through Chris and it made him smirk.

“You kissed all the way up my body, stopping only to lick up the underside of my cock and then up to my neck. You kissed my cheeks, my brows, my eyelids and then you slapped my face. I was shocked, but… you kissed my mouth and I just… fell into you.” Chris sounded like he was on the edge of tears.

“You let me go and you just had this wide-eyed stare, your pupils blown out and your mouth open and this look of need I’d never seen from you. You looked me in the eye, one hand in my hair, one on my face and said,

“”What do you want?’ I think my brain broke. Just smashed into shards right in front of you. You looked like you wanted to devour me where I stood. So I said the only thing that came to mind,”

“Please, fuck me. Please.”

“And I have to say, that was not the thing I was expecting to say but the look of sheer _glee_ that came across your face was worth everything. You pulled me off the wall and pushed me toward the bed while you started taking off your clothes. Before I knew it, you were on top of me on the bed, and we were kissing and grinding into each other like we had all the time in the world.”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Seb.” Chris’ eyes were a little wet in the corners.

“We stayed like that for what felt like hours. Or ten minutes. I don’t fucking know, but the world could’ve ended all around us and I would’ve stayed right there. It was perfect.”

“You grabbed the bottle of lube off the bedside table and _smiled_ at me like you were getting away with something. You put a pillow under my ass and started saying soft, gentle things as you lubed up your fingers. You gave me gentle touches on my hips and groin as you slid your fingers into me, 

“Shhh, you’re so good. Bear down. Shhh, so good. You’re being so good.”

“And you stroked my cock and kissed my chest like that until I was pushing back into your fingers inside of me. You twisted your wrist, pushed up, and I thought I was going to die right there, but you just kept saying ‘I got you, I got you, I got you’ while you touched me.”

“I believed you.” Chris choked back sobs.

“You pulled your hand away, cleaned up a bit with some tissues the best you could, and then pulled my legs up to put them around your waist. You kept saying soft things as you pushed into me, touching my chest and my arm and my thigh as you just moved forward, painfully slow. You didn’t stop or pull back, only forward. I thought my chest was going to burst.”

“You looked at me like I was the most precious thing you’d ever seen and like you’d die to protect me. I’d never felt so safe in my life,” Chris’ face was wet.

“You laced our hands together and held me down. Your pace was so painfully slow. I started begging for more, harder, faster, please touch me and you said,”

“No.”

“You had never said no to me, ever. Not in all our years together. I have to admit, I was conflicted. I was disappointed, but it also made me want you even more. And I will never forget the words that came out of your mouth then,”

“You’ll take it like I give it to you or I’ll stop.”

“Which was a _big_ surprise because that had… not really been our dynamic at all in the past but hey… I’d never met this… you… before that night and I wasn’t about to pass up on seeing where that went. So I just groaned and nodded and said,”

“Whatever you want.”

“Look at me. Keep your eyes open.”

“That’s all you wanted. To fuck me while I looked you in the eyes. I just wanted to remember every detail of your face, every stroke, every touch, every swoon so I could replay it during every lonely later I suspected was coming. For the record, that’s the memory I have on a loop every single time.”

“I started begging to be touched. I needed to come. You let go of one of my hands and fit it between us and you jerked me in time with your strokes. I put my hand on your shoulder and you just started…” Chris was lost in the memory.

“Don’t let go. Don’t let go. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don’t. Let. Go. Stay with me. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come for me. Come for me. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“And I think I went blind for a second. I came so hard between us and I was a little embarrassed at the sound I made.” Chris wiped his face with his palms and gave a bashful grin.

“That seemed to trigger something in you because you started slamming into me for just a few moments and you had your hand on my face and you were staring into my eyes and saying, ‘I love you. Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I’ll love you forever,’ until you came completely undone.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful, but in that moment it was like you glowed. I told you I loved you. Told you I would love you forever. Touched your face and your back as you laid on top of me. I never wanted to move again.”

Sebastian picked his jaw up off the floor and squeaked out, “Thank you for remembering that so… vividly.”

Chris grinned at him. “You’re unforgettable. It’s not possible for me to forget a single thing about you.”

Sebastian blushed and dabbed the corner of his eyes with a tissue.

“I’ve been trying to figure out a tattoo to commemorate that night it because I can’t shake it. Tattooing SEBASTIAN WUZ HERE as tramp-stamp seems a little too obvious though.” Chris smirked. Sebastian stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, have fun explaining that to the makeup artists who have to cover it up for your shirtless scenes. With your luck the only thing visible with your pants on would be SEBASTIAN. And there’s no heterosexual reason for my name to be on your body, so symbolic would be better. If what you come up with is cool, maybe I’ll get it too.”

“You don’t have any tattoos.” 

“My skin is the only virginity I have left to offer you.” Sebastian tried to sound very serious and failed miserably.

“Yeah, because your maidenhood was the thing that made me fall for you in the first place.”

Sebastian unsuccessfully stifled a laugh.

“I miss this the most.” Sebastian finally got the nerve up to look at Chris.

“Giving each other shit is better than my poetic dick?”

“I am going to regret telling you that for the rest of my life. No one can give you a compliment. You’re the worst. The. Fucking. Worst.”

“But you love it. And you love me.”

“Yeah, but I love everyone. So... not special.”

“This is the point where I would usually show you my “poetry” and I miss not being able to do that.” 

Sebastian looked longingly into Chris’ face, then moved away from him to the corner of the sofa.

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

“I’ve always been easy with you?”

“Not the kind of easy I need from you, sweetheart.” Sebastian sighed for the 7th time that day. He checked his watch. 

“Another beer?” Sebastian crossed the room to the kitchen.

“Please.”

“We only have 2 more beers. Do we need more or... I have some bourbon, gin, tequila, and vodka if we want this to get messy. None of it is top shelf but all of it is drinkable.” Sebastian needed some air and the market a few blocks over would be a decent outing where they could get more beer if that was a thing they wanted to do.

“We’ve come a long way from the swill we’d drink when we were 20, right?” Chris grinned.

“Indeed. So is that a no on a trip to the market?”

“Yeah, let’s walk to the market. We don’t need beer necessarily, but maybe we can pick up something for dinner?”

“Yeah, in the past two years I also gave up pretending that I can cook or want to cook. What kind of take-out are you interested in paying for tonight?”

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?”

“Yep. I paid for brunch and provided snacks and beer. You’re my friend not my guest. You’re buying dinner. Consider it rent on my guest… my second bedroom.” Sebastian was back in fine giving shit form and Chris missed this the most too.

“We’ve been a little carb heavy today. And while I’m not in training for anything yet, that shit goes straight to my gut. I’ve learned that I can’t be more than 6 weeks away from visible abs.” Chris said while considering the vast take-out options available in New York City.

“You’re done with Marvel. You don’t need to consider that shit anymore.” Sebastian couldn’t even remember the last time Chris was shirtless in a movie. He needed to be in shape, sure, but he didn’t need the stress of a six pack.

“Uh, I’m in training for this spy movie. I have an 8-pack.” Sebastian barely lifted the hem of his t-shirt and Chris strained to count the packs in the 3.5 seconds they were exposed. “I probably need to need to eat a salad with some chicken tonight.”

“Oh wow. You leave for that in…” Chris wracks his memory.

“Just got back, actually. Paris. I’m doing San Diego and D23 with Mackie. Then a couple of fashion shoots and then TIFF in September. Bucharest for 355 in October.”

“I’ll be at TIFF too. If we’re in town the same day, we should do something.”

“Mackie is in Toronto too this year.”

“That’s a recipe for fun and adventure.”

“Or disaster. Who really knows? Single Mackie is… a problem sometimes.” Sebastian made the “whuddayado” motion with his arms and shoulders.

“The best kind of trouble.” Chris smiled at the idea of getting up to a little no good with his friends in a foreign country.

“Hey, it’s only 2:15. What do you say we head over to the market, grab some beer and then walk back the long way just to get in 25-30 minutes of the vaguest kind of cardio?” Sebastian was halfway to the hall closet for his shoes.

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”


	5. Soho streetscape, sometime around 2 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Sebastian explains that friendship isn't second place to romantic relationships.

The two of them hit the street wearing hats and sunglasses, just two anonymous dudes in jeans and t-shirts on a warm July day in Manhattan. They talked about the changes in the neighborhood since Chris had last been in town, amazed that it'd only been over a year since Lobby Hero and the Infinity War press tour that Chris couldn't attend and only four months since the Endgame press tour that Sebastian didn’t get to do. It seemed like they’d lived two lifetimes since then. Yesterday feels like a year ago sometimes.

They walked with their hands in their pockets, bumping into each other at different moments as they dodged other pedestrians. It was difficult to talk with so many people around and they had a hard time staying near each other on the sidewalk. When they arrived at the market, they were better able to stick together. Chris decided on a six pack of some kind of Sam Adams. Sebastian picked up a bottle of tonic and a bottle of grapefruit Perrier for the gin and vodka later because the beer carbs were a bad idea while maintaining those abs.

“Do you want chicken and veggies with me, or do you want pizza or Cuban sandwiches or whatever when dinner time rolls around?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

Sebastian wheeled over to the takeout produce section and picked out two salads with chicken breast, choosing a balsamic dressing just to give that boring meal an idea of flavour.

“Hey Chris, what kind of dressing?” 

“They got ranch?”

“Basic white boy…” Sebastian muttered under his breath as he plucked a packet of ranch from the rack. Chris sidled up to Sebastian.

“What the fuck did you just call me, pretty boy?” Chris’ glittering blue eyes belied his stern tone.

“Basic. White. Boy.” Sebastian lowered his voice and practically growled it in Chris’ ear.

“Oh. Okay. Guilty as charged,” he replied as he took the salads and dressing packs from Sebastian’s hands and put them in the basket he was carrying. “You need anything else? Anything for the house?”

“I think I’m good. Thanks.”

Chris smiled and winked and they headed for the checkout. The two of them jostled for their wallets with Chris presenting his card mere seconds before Sebastian.

“You said I was your _friend_ and not your _guest_ so I have to pay.” Chris said this in a mocking stage whisper that made the woman working the till blush and look away.

“Jesus, Chris… yeah. You’re paying, big guy.” Sebastian gave an exaggerated eyeroll and grimace to the cashier and she laughed. He put his card back in his wallet, pushing it into his front pocket. Chris was still grinning with glee when they exited the market.

“Not doing stealth mode in public with you is fun. I like that we’re just friends now.”

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks and Chris walked back with a look of concern on his face.

“What happened? Whatsa matter?”

“You used the word “just”. We’re not “just” friends. Friendship is not a consolation prize for not having a romantic relationship. You’re my friend. We’re friends. There’s nothing lesser about that.” Sebastian continued walking and Chris had to do a half jog to catch up with him.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. It’s a figure of speech. I hadn’t thought about that before.”

“We were friends before you put your dick in my mouth, Chris. I’d hate to think that you were only being my friend so I’d let you do that.”

“Wait, what, no.” Chris got cut off by another pedestrian and couldn’t get back to Sebastian’s side fast enough.

“I’m sorry. Even if you’d never let me do that, I’d still be your friend. I promise. You’d be like Mackie in my life.”

“I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment.” Sebastian smiled and then stepped up his pace a little and hung the next right. “We’re still going for a walk, right?”

Chris had a difficult time following Sebastian’s change in tone and his point, maybe. “Just friends” or “Friends” didn’t seem like such a big deal. He would have to unpack that one later when he didn’t have to swim upstream in a sea of New Yorkers.

“You don’t think it’s a big deal. But it is a big deal for me as someone who is trying to reorder and reshape my view of relationships.” Sebastian finally offered as they got onto the quieter street.

“You’re doing what?”

“I’m trying to stop treating romantic and sexual relationships as the be-all and end-all of valuable relationships. It was something I had to consider when being with you. Part of our problem with being together is homophobia, and part of homophobia is centered around the fact that our society doesn’t value those relationships. If it isn’t ‘Dad goes to work, Mom stays home with the kids, and the kids grow up to be little mommies and daddies’ and capitalism survives for another generation, it’s not a real relationship. What we had, hell what we have now, is of no more value to keeping societal order and maintaining the status quo than our relationship to this chunk of sidewalk.”

“The legalization of same-sex marriage was only possible because white dudes with money wanted the tax and lifestyle benefits that straight white people of wealth enjoyed. It wasn’t really about a new societal acceptance, but about flexing privilege. Both versions of our relationships are contraindicated in our society because they’re not about preserving power or consolidating wealth. We’re subversive as fuck just by loving each other.” Sebastian sets his mouth into a frown. “Your relationship with me is valuable and precious. It always has been, no matter what the expression of it looked like. I love you. Not your ability to buy real estate and have children with me. I love _you_.”

Chris pondered this idea for two solid blocks.

“So, you don’t think having a primary sexual and romantic partner is a good thing.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just trying to deprioritize that kind of relationship and put it into some perspective with my other relationships. It’s just that “primary” comes with a lot of baggage, where we convolute love and sex and intertwine it with financial and familial obligations. But that’s not what I’m about right now, and it’s never been what we we were about so… How many hundreds of thousands of times did we devalue our friendship with Mackie by not being there for him because we weren’t fucking him? How many hundreds of times did we blow off a family dinner or celebration because we couldn’t fuck while we were there or be seen as a couple? How many parties, events, and important occasions did one of us miss because we couldn’t be together too often?” Sebastian’s eyes and tone begged Chris to understand. 

“And I swear on everything that is indecent and unholy that if you tell Mackie I complained we weren’t fucking him, I will kill you in your sleep.”

Chris burst out laughing.

“I can’t promise you that. He’s my friend too.”

“I hate you.”

As they rounded the corner onto Sebastian’s block, they spotted the paparazzi on the next corner. 

“We have nothing to hide, Chris.”

“Nope. We don’t.”

The two of them walked, heads down and with purpose, toward Sebastian’s building about halfway down the block. It was the position that countless celebrities had assumed to discourage the photographers and keep them from getting a good photo.

Craig held the door open for them and swooped around to close it immediately behind them. The glass in the lobby had a mirror-like finish on the outside that left the paps taking photos of themselves.

“Thanks, Craig.” Sebastian pushed the button for the elevator.

“Anytime, Mr. Stan.” Craig nodded and tipped his hat. “I’ll see if I can get them to move on.”

“Whatever. They’re dogs who’ve been given a bone. They’re just here to see if they can catch us doing something gay.” Chris’ voice was sharp and low and bordering on angry.

“Meh. It’s a good thing we aren’t gay then.” Sebastian cracked a grin and the elevator slid open in front of them. 

“Thanks again, Craig. If they don’t leave soon, start emptying buckets of mop water onto the sidewalk. Maria in maintenance should be able to help you with that.” Sebastian called out to the doorman before the door closed.

“Will do, Mr. Stan.”

“Seb, what the hell?”

“Back in the day, Chace was hounded daily by the paparazzi. His doorman used that trick to get rid of them. When Margarita and I were followed home once, I asked the doorman in her building to do it and it worked. This is the first time I’ve had to use it here, but I’ve made a point to get to know both the maintenance staff and the door crew of every building I’ve lived in since back then,” Sebastian explained. “Craig’s a good guy.”

“Does it weird you out that he calls you Mr. Stan?”

“I tried in the beginning to get him to call me Sebastian but he explained that he couldn’t. It’s company policy for a standard greeting, plus there are some terrible people in this building who think that they’re better than ‘The Help’ and would lose their minds if Craig and I greeted each other by first name and a casual fist bump. Saves him problems he doesn’t need. I sign my Christmas card to him with only my first name, though.”

“People are dumb.” Chris said as they stepped off the elevator. “Hey, do you mind if we put this stuff in the fridge, then we smoke on the roof again?”


	6. SoHo rooftop terrace, sometime around 3 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part about the safest place in the world

“Sure.” Sebastian unlocked the door and Chris carried their shopping bags to the kitchen. “Beers and smokes on the terrace are a great idea.”

“Your terrace is one of my favourite places in the world.” Chris looked away. “It feels like our secret hideout. It feels like where we started. If this is the end of everything we had, I’d… I’d like it… if we start the new stuff out there. Or something. Whatever. I don’t know.”

Chris hated being a big sap. Sebastian loved him harder in that moment.

“I don’t know either. But I can’t sit out here without thinking of you. You told me you loved me for the first time when you were sitting in that chair. I think about that every single time I see it. I put that chair in my bedroom every winter so it doesn’t get damaged outside. Though this year it might go in the guest bedroom.”

“You put all the furniture out here into storage, but this chair goes in your room?”

“Yep. I told you, I keep the ones I love close. That’s your chair. If I take care of it, it should last forever.” 

Sebastian can’t help smiling through the tears welled up in his eyes.

“If…” Chris’ thought faded to nothing because there was nothing to be gained by trying to plead his case. Sebastian was right, there was no arguing their way into everything they wanted.

“Tell me about after Atlanta. What happened then, Seb?”

“I came home in a lot of pain. I cried and drank a lot. I spent a lot of time doing press and photo calls for I, Tonya. Did some fashion shoots, I drank more. Prepped for and shot Destroyer. Went back to Atlanta to wrap my last days on Endgame. What did you do?”

“I tried to get back together with Jenny after you left and we smoked a lot of weed. I worked on the political website. I also drank a lot. Jenny’s friends told some fucking blogger that we were getting married. Wrapped Endgame. Jenny didn’t want my bullshit either. Moved to New York.”

“Jenny was always going to be a love I couldn’t compete with. So I stopped trying to because I didn’t want to continue to be angry that we weren’t “together”. I couldn’t make you an all-or-nothing kind of love. Maybe you could look at Jenny the same way?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Chris stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m going to run to the bodega for another pack of smokes. I feel like I want to torture my lungs tonight to match my soul.”

“Always so dramatic…” Sebastian barely contained his impersonation of Hayley’s English accent and his smirk.

Chris responded with two middle fingers as he got up and walked back into the apartment.

“Need anything?”

“Nope. Grab my keys off the table by the door so you can lock the door when you leave.”

“Copy that,” Chris switched one middle finger to a thumbs up.

Sebastian grabbed a beer then returned to the roof terrace and took the last cigarette. He felt almost proud of himself that he hadn’t cried all over Chris that morning. The day had been full of so many big emotions and he was pleased with how he had handled them. There was still one big fucking thing he needed to say to Chris and he was grasping with all his monologue delivery skills to be able to put it together.

He feared the whole thing that he’d put together in the past two years would go over like a lead balloon. So many people had rejected him in the past year as he tried to explain to potential lovers, friends, partners of all sorts what kind of relationships he was interested in having. Chris was important to him and Sebastian needed to show him that even though they weren’t going to be sexual partners anymore he still held a special place in his life. He was still an intimate partner.

It used to be so easy to make Chris feel secure and exceptional. If anything at all, the shift in their relationship would force them to get more creative. They were Artists. They could create and fill a role in each other’s lives. Roles that would last longer than their Marvel obligations. Roles that would allow them to stretch and change and get what they wanted in ways that an all-or-nothing romantic relationship couldn’t allow them.

With his head in hands, Sebastian considered his words, feelings and his truth as Chris let himself back into the apartment. He stepped back out on the roof, sat down, and tossed the pack of cigarettes down on the table.

“You said you had some tequila?”

“Jesus, Evans. Really?”

“It’s well after noon and I have a feeling I’m going to need something to take the edge off the hurt that’s coming.”


	7. SoHo rooftop terrace, sometime around 4 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part where Chris starts to get it. Also crying.

Chris returned from the kitchen with a glass of tequila. 

“I hope none of this hurts terribly. Going through this in the past two years, it hurt like a son of a bitch. It was fucking awful. But in the end, it was so good and I’m so much more content than I have been at any other time of my life. All I can hope is that you can find the level of peace in your relationships that I have.” Sebastian wished Chris had brought the whole bottle with him.

“Speaking of relationships, is there any point in this where you tell me about the people you left the bar with last night.”

“Huh. Yeah. They’re two of my sexual partners.”

“Two of them? How many do you have?”

“As many as I want? But for right now, they’re the only ones. Please don’t get gross, Chris. It’s not like you, we, didn’t have multiple partners in the past.”

“Shots fired.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You cheated on both Minka and Jenny with me. I cheated on Dianna, Jennifer AND Margarita with you. We talked a good game about monogamy, but we… er, I at least was absolutely shit in the practice of it. I decided over a year ago that I wasn’t getting involved with another person who required monogamy ever again. This is a hill I’m willing to die on. People who aren’t monogamous have to stop getting involved with people who want and need that.”

“Huh. Is there a woman in the world that would go for that?”

“More than you think.” Sebastian lowered his eyes and tried to fight the smile that curled at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, so it’s like that.”

“I mean, my goal isn’t a wife and kids and a suburban estate. I’ve met some great people in the past year and a half who are into what I’m into and fill multiple roles in my life other than sexual and/or romantic interests. I’m interested in long-term bonding if it happens, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be with just one person and it doesn’t necessarily have to be with a primary sexual partner when it does happen. It’s called being well-rounded.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sebastian so Eurotrash wordly.”

“For your information, I’ve lived in the US twice as long as I lived in Europe. All of this is America’s fault.” Sebastian gestured from the top of his head down to his feet.

Chris snickered.

“So, how does this work?”

“It’s different for everyone, but I can tell you how it worked for me.”

“I’m listening.”

“The first thing I had to ask myself was, what do I think a relationship is.”

“And?”

“For me, it’s the connection between two or more people and how they treat each other within that connection.”

“That’s pretty broad.”

“Purposefully so. Remember, the definition has to be big enough to include my mom, you and… uh, Kevin Fiege, as an example.”

“So your idea of relationships has to include everyone in your life?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. So that leads to…”

“Then I had to consider how our culture and society enforces rules on what is a ‘real’ relationship, how they should work, what’s good, what’s bad, what’s wrong and what’s right.”

“Like being straight is better than being gay, but gay is better than being bisexual. Monogamy and staying together forever are good, having sex outside of marriage and divorce are bad.”

“In that example, yeah. But we both know all that is bullshit. Sexuality, sex, romantic, platonic relationships don’t always fit in those tight boxes. So, I’ve learned to define each of my relationships as they are and what they need to be for both of us to live our best lives, apart and together.”

“That sounds like a lot of talking.”

“So much talking. And feelings. And it gets weird.”

“No one ever wants it to get weird.”

“I love when it gets weird. It’s an energy you can play with. Weird is full of things only we know, inside jokes, vulnerability, and sweetness. It can be so soft.” Sebastian flashed Chris a gentle smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think people confuse weird with “unreciprocated feelings” rather than good feelings. My feelings, reciprocated or not, are my responsibility - not my partner’s.”

“You’re weird.” Chris smiled softly back at him and Sebastian sighed.

“I wasn’t totally joking about America being at fault for who I am. After months of crying and redefining everything I knew about myself and yelling at myself and my therapist, I realized that I needed a few things in my relationships to feel good about myself and the people around me. I value my freedom and the freedom of the people in my life to choose for themselves, including a respect for our autonomy, independence and self-determination. I need active and ongoing consent from all parties involved in how we’re living our relationship. I need to have integrity, honesty, and a willingness to accept change. And I want everyone who is intimate with me to be a part of my self-chosen family.”

“Intimate?”

“My friends. My lovers. The people who know the stuff I share with my therapist. The people who count on me to answer their call at 3 AM. The people who say they love me . You know, intimate.”

“That sounds like a great way to get hurt.”

“It’s about embracing the impermanence of life. There is also no universe where I get to the end of my life where I am unscarred, clean and bored. I don’t want that life. I know I am going to be hurt. I also know that I am going to hurt people. But I don’t worry about that anymore. Because love, in all it’s expressions, is worth doing. Kindness is worth practicing. The hurt doesn’t hurt any less, but the love I have is so big it outshines it. Love is worth all the pain.”

“That’s beautiful. Very aspirational. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, even.”

“I’m all-American, baby.” Sebastian grinned and stuck his tongue out. “A wise man once said that a love scene can be anything you want. So I decided to try to make that happen for me. It took me 36 years to realize that unless I put myself at risk of being hurt, I will absolutely never feel joy.”

“You’re happy?”

“Happy is relative. I’m content. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’m responsible for what I bring to my relationships. I’m better about respecting boundaries, including my own. My romantic and sexual partners respect my needs and I respect theirs. We renegotiate the nature of our attachments whenever the status quo is going to be disrupted.”

“So much fucking talking.”

“I stopped believing that relationships aren’t work and should be easy.”

“We were easy.”

“I swear some fucking times, Evans, you and I weren’t in the same relationship.”

“I mean, we just loved each other. We didn’t have to talk about what we needed from each other because we just knew.”

“We’re two dudes and what we needed most of the time was to blow a load. I’m not saying we didn’t have great and loving times, but the nature of our relationship dictated that our… intimacy was often... physical.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chris sounded hurt.

“Fucking hell, Chris… it wasn’t bad, Mr. Poetic Dick. It was limited. It was stunted. Do you ever stop to consider what we could’ve had if we’d just been able to, I don’t know, hold hands in public?”

“I think about it all the time.” Chris stared off in the distance. “You sure you don’t want to have kids with me? We could get a nice place in the Hamptons?”

“It scares me that I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking. Or… is it a case of if I say yes, we’re out of the closet by morning and we’re getting married or if I say no, it’s just jokes?”

“You know me so well.”

“I don’t want to have kids or a place in the Hamptons, Chris.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, Mr. Poetic Ass.” Chris lifted the corners of his mouth in a facsimile of a smile.

“What do you want your life to look like in 5 years, Chris? If it all goes perfectly, what does it look like?”

“I don’t know. I knew if I changed too much you’d be gone forever.”

“I’ve been ‘gone’ almost two years. The change already happened.”

Chris took his head in his hands and began to sob.

“I believed my promises too, Seb. All of the ones I made that I didn’t keep. I guess I just thought I’d have more time later to get it right.”

Sebastian moved to crouch in front of Chris and put his arms around him.

“We could make new promises, Chris. Ones we’d keep this time. Ones that make more sense for our relationship as it is, not as we wish it would be.” Sebastian held Chris while his sobs shook his body.


	8. SoHo apartment, sometime around 5 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part about boundaries not rules.

“Let’s go in for awhile.” Sebastian stood, taking Chris by the hand, leading him back into the apartment. He sat him on the sofa, then said, “Wait here.”

Sebastian walked down the hall and returned with a blanket and a box of tissues. He placed the tissues on the coffee table, sat himself in the corner of the sofa, place a throw pillow on his lap and patted the sofa beside him.

“C’mere...”

Chris shifted toward Sebastian and Sebastian guided his head to the pillow on his lap. When Chris settled, Sebastian threw the blanket over him. 

“The throw is cashmere. I heard you grew accustomed to fine fabrics last year.”

“You’re not allowed to make me laugh when I’m crying, Seb.”

“Sorry not sorry, buddy.”

Sebastian ran his fingers through Chris’ hair as he wept on his lap. He tried to whisper soothing and loving things and be a comfort. In all the years he’d known Chris, he’d never seen him like this and it felt like a privilege being able to do this for him. They’d been through a lot together in 9 years, but they had been selfish and deluded to think they would never change in that time.

He wasn’t paying attention to the time but when Chris’ pyramid pile of used tissues began to fall off the coffee table, Sebastian decided it was time to regroup.

“I’m really proud of you, Chris.”

“Wha?” Chris mumbled into the blanket he’d pulled over his face.

“You’re really brave for telling me what you wanted and then allowing yourself to just feel when you got an answer you didn’t want. You didn’t get angry and storm out. You didn’t try to convince or coerce or control. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Like I normally do.” Chris said ruefully.

“Like you have in the past.” Sebastian changed the narrative. “You allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of me and I’ve never had this experience with you. Well, this _is_ probably the first time I’ve had you in a vulnerable position with your clothes on.”

Chris snorted out a laugh.

“No making me laugh while I’m sad, Sebastian.”

Sebastian laughed out loud.

“Oh it’s fine when you do it to me, but when I do it to you all of a sudden there’s a rule against it.”

“Not a rule. It’s a boundary.”

“You’re a dick and I hate you.”

“I know that’s not true. You love me and my dick.”

“You are fucking impossible, you know that?”

Chris pulled the blanket away from his face and crinkled up his nose and eyes in a grin.

“I’m so lucky I’m handsome or no one would put up with my shit for more than 10 minutes.”

“So lucky. So Mr. Handsome, if you’re feeling better we could sink another drink and smoke outside, if you wanted?”

“You have the best ideas. Can you help me with this blanket and get me up?”

Chris had somehow managed to get himself tangled up in the throw and it made it impossible for him to use his right arm or leg. Sebastian wrangled the blanket, grabbed Chris’ wrist and pulled him up to standing.

“Wow, you’re strong.”

“I work out,” Sebastian’s tone was glib and sarcastic and he pushed Chris to the terrace door. 

Chris took his chair and Sebastian shifted the patio table with the cigarettes and ashtray placing it between them, then Sebastian moved his chair positioning it to sit directly across from Chris. He pulled two cigarettes from the pack, lit them both and handed one to Chris.

“So what now?” Chris seemed genuinely stunned by that afternoon’s events and he appeared a little lost.

“We have options. What do you want?”

“I want a time machine to go back to July 2010.”

“Oh? Why?”

“So 28-year-old me could tell 27-year-old you the truth.”

“Twenty-seven-year-old me didn’t care what the truth was. If you want to tell someone the truth, 35-year-old you should go tell 34-year-old me. That’s your game changer. What would your truth be?” 

Sebastian was curious and intrigued by the prospect of hearing Chris’s truth.

“I’d tell him that I would love him until the end of time but I could never be what he needed and wanted, and we need to figure out how we can still have sex for the next few years without it meaning anything.”

Sebastian huffed.

“Even the most casual of sex means something, Chris.”

“I’m skeptical of that.”

“It means something. It just, sex doesn’t need to mean what we’re conditioned to think it means. Sex isn’t love, love isn’t sex, we both know that. But there are a lot potential meanings for sex between ‘Let’s get married so we can be together’ and ‘Let’s make a suicide pact if we can’t be together’.”

Chris snorted out an even more skeptical laugh.

“So says the guy who won’t fuck me anymore because he loves me.”

“I won’t fuck you anymore because I love you and I don’t want us to get into our unhealthy patterns of hiding and lying. You come with a family-size bucket of shame and regret attached and almost 37-year-old me is tired of living under the tyranny of society’s rules of engagement when it comes to love, sex, and relationships.” Sebastian tried to hold Chris’ gaze to make sure he wasn’t avoiding Sebastian’s truth.

“So you’re some kind of anarchist now?”

“Yeah, I guess. Once I learned that anarchy doesn’t equal chaos but individual liberation, and not at the expense of the wellbeing of others, I was kind of all into that. That’s how I want to live and it’s how I want to love and it’s how I want to make art.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be into that.” Chris looked crestfallen.

“Not much call for anarchy in the Hamptons with your wife and two kids.” Sebastian feared that came out sharper and colder than he had intended.

“You really don’t want any of that?”

“I can choose any kind of family I want. You’re already a member of my chosen family. But I’m privileged to be a dude. If I can manage to have enough gold to dig into my old age, I could have kids at 70 if I wanted. Hell, look at Clooney. He was king of the 1-to-3 year relationship until he was in his 50s and inside 18 months went from single dude living in Italy to married future father of twins. Life can change in an instant when a relationship shifts.” Sebastian reached out for Chris’ hands.

“If the time came where that’s what I really wanted, I would be honoured to hire a surrogate with you and be your child’s Papa. But that time has not come and I don’t know if it ever will. I may never be ready and I don’t know if I will ever want that. And just as it’s unfair for you to string me along with promises of coming out and a public relationship, it’s also not fair of me to string you along with promises of white picket fences and diaper changes.”

“We said a lot of shit to each other in the afterglow, didn’t we?” Chris’ smile was sad.

“We did. I meant them all in those moments, but promises made in the late hours of a Saturday night rarely survive the cold light and scrutiny of a Monday morning.”

“That’s fucking poetic, Seb.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Evans. We’re having a moment here.”

“Right, right… Here, I’ll put on my serious face.” Chris set his jaw in a line of determination and furrowed his brow.

“Lose the beard and that’s your Steve Rogers-Eyebrows of Disappointment face.”

“Now who is ruining our moment, huh?”

The two of them cracked up and Sebastian let go of Chris’ hands.

“It’s almost 6, let’s eat our disappointing dinner, decide what promises we’re going to make that we’ll keep, and then watch some dystopian melodrama?

“Then we watch something that doesn’t remind me of the hellscape we’re headed toward. There’s got to be some baking shows on Netflix.”

“Fuck you, Evans.”


	9. SoHo apartment, sometime around 6 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part with the promises.

“Chicken and vegetables. My kingdom to be a character actor who doesn’t take his shirt off.” Sebastian stabbed at some greens with his fork and jammed them in his mouth. “When this is over, I’m eating pizza and pasta five meals a day for a month.”

“Why all this work for a spy movie?” 

“I’ve got a nude scene. I can feel Jessica judging me from here. I just want me to look my best.”

“Jessica loves you, why would she judge your body like that?”

“Mmfph, I don’t know,” Sebastian mumbled around his mouthful of chicken chunks and spinach.

“Sounds like you’re the one judging your body from here. Jessica’s got nothing to do with it.” Chris put his fork down. “You look great. You’re not built for bulk, you’re built for strength and agility. Lean into that because it’s smokin’ hot on you.”

Sebastian grinned.

“Thanks. I often cry myself to sleep at night because I don’t have the body of Chris Hemsworth.”

“We all do, buddy. We all do.” Chris cracked a smile before taking another forkful of his salad. He patted Sebastian on the shoulder. “You have done some great work this time with Don. You should be proud.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Sebastian got that bashful look on his face he always gets when people tell him he’s beautiful.

The two of them finished their nutritious and bland dinners in mostly silence. This was the kind of comfortable intimacy they’d built over almost a decade; the ability to just be quiet with each other without stretching to fill the silence with chat that didn’t mean anything. It was cozy and warm. They moved around the kitchen to clean up and Sebastian poured Chris a couple of fingers of tequila and himself a gin and tonic.

“Smoking or non?” Sebastian gestured toward the door to the roof and then the sofa in the living room.

“Smoking section, for _sure_.”

“After you, sir.” The two of them moved with their drinks to their designated chairs on the roof.

Chris looked like he needed answers.

“So, you negotiate every facet of your relationships. How does that work?”

“Depends on the relationship, really.”

“Explain it to me like I’m 8.”

“Wow, you’re really growing up fast. A whole year older in just a couple of hours.”

“Fuck you, Seb.”

“Yeah, whatever, okay. So, for an example. If I’m trying to work with someone on a project, we negotiate who’s doing what in our collaboration. If they’re going to talk with investors or producers then I’m going to find the right director and creative team.”

“I’m actually more interested in your _intimate_ relationships.”

“Because of course you are… What kind of intimate partner would you like to know about?”

“What kind? There’s more than one kind?”

“Yeah. There’s like a dozen, but one person might be able to be all of them and another person might only be able to be one or two of them.”

“This seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“It doesn’t when you stop to think about all the different kinds of relationships a person can have.”

“Go on.” Chris looked like he was preparing to be amused.

“Okay, so to me you are a romantic partner, a friend, we share physical intimacy through touch and we’re just getting used to the idea that it can be non-sexual, we’re emotionally intimate, you’re an emotional support to me, you’ve cared for me when I couldn’t take care of myself, we’re social partners and do things together out in the community. We’re also co-workers sometimes.” Sebastian searched Chris’ face for a sign of understanding.

“What we used to be to each other was sexual partners, potential life partners, and… well… we shared some kinks and played with some power dynamics.” Sebastian couldn’t maintain eye contact through that.

“But what we never were: domestic partners, or co-care givers to dependents, we’ve never been financially linked, we’ve never worked together on a project or tried to do business together. As examples. Negotiating these roles decreases expectations and hurt when a person can’t be or do what’s assumed they’ll do as an intimate partner.”

“You once watched Dodger for a day. That would make you a co-care giver.”

“You’re right. I was a co-care giver with you for a day. That was nice. How is Dodger doing?”

“He’s with Aunt Shanna until I get back tomorrow. He’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Chris pondered what he’d just been told.

“Wait, how am I your romantic partner still if I’m not your sexual partner anymore?”

“That’s the thing… I can be in love with you, still experience the chemistry we have and the love I feel with you without putting my dick in your mouth.”

“Huh. I suppose we can do that.”

“We can because we’ve been doing that for years.”

Chris exhaled slowly.

“So that’s what we are now is touchy-feely friends who talk about our feelings, support each other, and do non-sexy stuff together?”

“Or as you like to call it, ‘Just Friends’.”

Chris threw him a look and then smiled.

“I’m not necessarily happy about not having your dick in my mouth.”

“I’m not necessarily happy about that either. But the way it was is untenable. I can’t continue navigating the world like an exposed wound.”

“I really hurt you that much?”

“You didn’t… not exactly. It was just the indignities of it all. The hiding, the lying, the low-key homophobic shame that came when the two of us would get too… enthusiastic about each other and our friendship in public. Or the humiliating way people would talk about Stucky, like we turned them gay when it was really fucking obvious they were gay for each other before we got to them. Having to deny everything I felt for you beyond the bounds of soft, platonic, male friendship. It just got more and more gross.”

“And I was there trying to double the locks on our closet and keep you with me but never out in the open.”

“Even after your birthday fuck up and our time in Atlanta, I knew if we continued as we had I would get less and less of you. On the Infinity War press tour, it just became clear that our time had passed. You were doing your own thing, while I was out there promoting a movie I died in. I wouldn’t be on the next press tour because I was dead. Then there would be no more Stucky, because there wouldn’t be anymore Steve Rogers.” Sebastian looked at the floor and took a drag from his cigarette. “We were only together because of them being together and now they weren’t. Seemed like the mature thing to do.”

“Huh. Yeah. I feel like I should apologize for taking that play instead of doing that last press tour with you.”

“Nah, you were great. You had your post-Cap life and career to think about. Pulling yourself out of the machine when you can is putting your own oxygen mask on first.”

Chris smirked and stubbed out his cigarette.

“You haven’t cried this whole time.” Chris couldn’t make eye contact with Sebastian.

“I told you, I cried over you hundreds of times in the past 2 years. I’ve come close today but maybe I’m just all cried out?” Sebastian ran his hand through his hair and fixed his eyes on the floor too.

“What happens now, Seb?”

“Whatever we want to happen. It can be any way we want it.”

“Any way?” Chris arched his eyebrow and twirled an imaginary moustache.

“Down there, tiger. Any way that we both negotiate and that works for both of us.”

“Life is a constant source of disappointment.”

“And so am I…” Sebastian smirked. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“Okay. So, I can promise you that we’re friends and most of our relationship won’t change. We’ll give each other shit and we’ll hang out just the two of us and with our mutual friends whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

Chris nodded.

“I can promise you that too.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page there. Also, I want to be able to hug you in public. I want to be able to cuddle up with you when we watch movies together. I want to be able to hold your hand when we’re in private.”

“I can do those things too.”

“I want to be able to tell you about my feelings, I want to hear about yours. I promise that I’ll take your calls no matter what time of day. I am good for bail for crimes up to and including involuntary manslaughter. I promise I’ll bring you soup when you’re sick, if we’re in the same city…” Sebastian couldn’t hold back the tears for one more second.

“I promise I’ll bring you skinny lattes, extra hot, extra foam and Advil for any future hangover I’m involved in.” Sebastian choked on his sobs.

“And I promise you, Christopher Robert Evans, that I will love you forever, in this and all universes, until the end of time.”

Sebastian wept and Chris could only watch and catch his breath. It was completely unfair how beautiful he was even when he ugly cried.

“Seb…” Chris pulled himself out of his chair and moved around the table to lift Sebastian out of his. He threw his arms around him, put one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head and just… held on. He held on like they would both fall apart if they let go. Sebastian slid his arms around Chris’ waist and sobbed into his t-shirt. They just stood there for what felt like both an eternity and not nearly long enough.

“I promise we will talk every chance we get. I promise I will take your calls no matter what time of day. I am good for bail up to and including second degree murder, but I’m not here for it if you premeditate that shit. I promise I will bring you cronuts and Starbucks when you’re hungover and borscht and latkes when you’re sick.” Chris made this declaration into Sebastian’s hair. Then he leaned back, took Sebastian’s face in his hands as his own tears started to fall.

“And I promise you, Sebastian Why-don’t-you-have-a-middle-name Stan, that I will love you forever, in this and all universes, until the end of time. If our simulation gets rebooted, I will love you again.”

Sebastian snickered and smirked. 

“No making me laugh when I’m crying.”

“I’m just learning about boundaries.” Chris shrugged. “And I’m learning about promises I can keep.”

Chris leaned in to kiss him and Sebastian moved to closed the space between them. It wasn’t frenetic or passionate or needy, it was true love’s kiss… straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie. In the moment, both of them felt the relationship shift.

“That was nice.” Sebastian breathed out when they pulled away.

“I hope that didn’t break a promise.” Chris felt a bit at sea in the moment. “I don’t want to hurt your heart anymore than I already have.”

“Shut up. That kiss was perfect.”

“Want to try it again?” Chris asked with raised eyebrows and a look of hope on his face.

“You’re the worst.” Sebastian picked up their glasses and headed back inside. “Go change your shirt. I need to blow my nose and we both need another drink.”

“So. Bossy.” Chris headed toward the guest bedroom with downcast eyes to find a new shirt.

Sebastian pulled two tissues out of the box on the coffee table, wiped his eyes and blew his nose, then moved into the kitchen for tequila and gin refills.

“One more smoke then we move onto the sofa for movie watching.” Chris returned to the living room wearing one of his too small t-shirts. Sebastian muttered something about Chris being a fucking jerk under his breath and Chris sent a shit-eating grin directly at Sebastian. 

“Stop looking at me like I’m a snack, Seb.”

Sebastian fought the urge to kick him. For the moment.


	10. SoHo rooftop terrace, sometime around 7 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part with survival plans.

They sat in their chairs on the roof terrace, again turned toward the Manhattan cityscape and not facing each other.

“Sometimes I understand why you love this city so much.” Chris said more to himself than to his companion. “The feeling doesn’t last long, but for a minute I get it.”

“Some people prefer the concrete jungle to the actual jungle. That’s just a difference in preference.”

Sebastian shrugged and ashed his cigarette. “I never understood your love of camping and I never will.”

Chris burst out laughing.

“You’ll appreciate my survival skills when the zombie apocalypse comes.”

“If the zombie apocalypse comes, kill me first. I’m not built for the collapse of society.”

“How you want to go out?”

“Quick and painless, please? Oh, and if you could blow me before you kill me, I’d die a happy man.”

“I can’t even believe you would think I would kill you after after I blew you… You’re not going to die while I have a boner.”

“Fine. We get each other off and then you kill me. But this is contingent on it being the fall of our society and not just some… whenever.” Sebastian used a tone that said he was dead serious.

“FEMA would be so proud of our emergency preparedness.” Chris deadpanned and the two of them laughed quietly.

“Heh… What movie do you want to watch? I’m not married to the idea of watching 1984 but I don’t want to watch baking shows either.” Sebastian turned toward Chris to gauge his reaction.

“How ‘bout we see what’s on TCM or Sundance or something. I’m in the mood for either a classic black and white film or something indie and edgy.”

“That works for me.”

They finished their cigarettes, picked up their glasses and stepped inside.

“I’ll refill the drinks, you fire up the TV and see what’s on the movie channels. We’ll leave it to the programming gods to choose for us.” Chris moved into the kitchen. “You sticking with the gin and tonics?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Sebastian flipped the channel and was greeted by the voice of Robert Osborne stating. “Next on Turner Classic Movies, the 1942 masterpiece directed by Michael Curtiz, Casablanca.”

“Chris. Chris. Chris, we’re watching this. No fight. No arguing. We’re fucking watching this.”

“Fine. It’s exactly the kind of thing I wanted to watch.” Chris put the drinks down on the coffee table and sat down in the corner of the sofa where Sebastian had sat earlier. He set a throw pillow down on his lap and invited Sebastian to lie down.

“You did it for me. I can do it for you.” 

Sebastian relaxed into the sofa and Chris covered him with the blanket.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine. Play it, Sam. Play As Time Goes By.” Sebastian intoned in the worst Humphrey Bogart impersonation ever.

Chris ran his hand through Sebastian’s hair and sat back to watch Bogart and Bacall work their magic.


	11. SoHo apartment, sometime around 11 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part about memories and space.

Chris woke up with a start and a snort and a crick in his neck. He was still in the corner of the sofa, Sebastian’s head was still in his lap and he was stretched out on the sofa. Inconveniently, Chris’ leg was asleep under the weight of Sebastian’s head and shoulders. Chris nudged him.

“Hey, hey...we dozed off. You gotta get off my leg.”

Sebastian blinked away his sleepy confusion.

“Geeze, sorry. Between the gin and the calm, I guess I fell out. Sorry.”

“No biggie. Just my leg is all pins and needles.” Chris checked his watch. “It’s barely 11:30 and I’m still operating on west coast time. The tequila must have really done a number on me.”

Sebastian smirked and snickered.

“You’re pretty comfortable.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s too early for me to go to bed, so your west coast time is fine.”

“So what do we do now?”

“The building has a pool and a hot tub. Or we could take the subway to a dive bar on the Lower East Side or Harlem or the Village?”

“Nah. I don’t want to deal with the paparazzi.”

“There are no photographers in the pool. Paps don’t look for Chris Evans at $1 beer joints in Harlem.”

“Point taken. But I’m not sure I want to go out.”

“Fair enough. But I think I’m done talking and crying.”

“Yeah… How about ice cream and a 90s music dance party?”

“Actual 90s dance music? No sad grunge or emo bullshit?”

“Dance music. No Nirvana or Alice In Chains. Scout’s honour.”

“Were you even a Boy Scout?”

“Uh… no. But I played a larger than life good and honest guy for like 10 years. I have practice.” Chris lifted his chin and flashed his signature Steve Rogers grin.

“I’ll believe you. Let me check the freezer.” Sebastian walked into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door. “I got an unopened container of strawberry chocolate chip froyo and a half-eaten pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. Is this a grave disappointment or am I heading to the bodega in a few minutes?”

“We’ve still got tequila so it’ll do. Grab some spoons and I’ll cast my Spotify playlist to your speakers, if you haven’t changed your settings since I was last here.”

“It should be fine. I don’t understand enough about it to ever fuck with it.” 

A second later Dee-lite’s “Groove Is In The Heart” begins to play.

“Your groove I do deeply dig, Chris.” Sebastian gave him a half grin before putting a spoonful of frozen yogurt in his mouth.

“The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled,” Chris sang in an off-key falsetto that cracked Sebastian up.

“Please don’t. I mean... dance for me, white boy.”

Chris began his most ridiculous topless dancer impersonation to the beat.

“Never mind. Don’t do that either. Here, eat the rest of the Chunky Monkey.”

They stood at the kitchen island eating their frozen treats, their heads bopped to the beat until Sebastian put down his spoon.

“That froyo is rich. I hit the wall. Want some before I put it back?”

Chris nodded and smiled and scooped out a spoonful and put it in his mouth.

“Gahhh, mmm, that’s so goooooood.” Chris practically swooned and reached for another taste. He jammed it in his mouth and then winced and groaned. “Ice cream headache, too much.”

Sebastian shouldn’t have laughed at him, but he did.

“So greedy. You’re cut off.” Sebastian pushed Chris’s tequila over to him. “That should help with the pain.” He waggled his eyebrows, put the lid back on the frozen yogurt container and slid it back into the freezer. Chris deposited his empty ice cream container in the garbage and spun around. As the synths of “Rhythm is a Dancer” began, Chris grabbed Sebastian in a tango-like pose.

“Dance with me, white boy.” Their mock tango was an insult to the art of ballroom dancing, but they were feeling a little high from the sugar, a little loose from the spirits, and a little hyped after their nap. Before the end of the first chorus they were laughing hysterically and had a difficult time catching their breath. As the song ended, Chris caught Sebastian’s eye.

“One more smoke. One more drink. Then I’m going to have a shower and go to bed, if that’s cool.”

“Very cool. It’s almost midnight and I’m usually out by 1 AM. You go out, I’ll make sure there are towels for you.”

Sebastian walked into his guest room and turned down Chris’ bed. He went into the main bath and pulled out a couple of towels from the linen closet and put them on the shelf above the toilet. Realizing the last thing he wanted to see that night was Chris Fucking Evans in a towel, he stepped quickly to the other end of the apartment and grabbed a terry cloth robe from his own en suite. Not a perfect solution, but better than the tempting alternative. He hung it up on the back of the bathroom door. He checked the soap and shampoo situation, found it to be adequate and headed back outdoors.

Chris was sitting in his chair, rolling his drink between his palms. Sebastian recognized Chris’ emotional tell. When he does that he’s feeling unsure and uncertain. Sebastian had no more words to offer him. As lovely as the night had been, Sebastian felt emotionally drained and his nerve endings were frayed.

Chris had waited for Sebastian to come outside, so he put his drink down and lit both cigarettes and handed one to Sebastian.

“Everything okay?” 

Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was asking about the bathroom set up or Sebastian’s general wellbeing.

“Uh, you should have everything you need in the bathroom. I… I put one of my robes on the back of the door for you to use.”

“Is it the fluffy navy blue one?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s my favourite. Thanks.”

“You have a favourite robe of mine?”

“Sure do. I also have a favourite t-shirt, a favourite pair of skinny jeans you wear, a favourite hoodie, and a favourite jacket.”

“I’m glad you and I are aren’t the same size or half my wardrobe would be gone.”

“Oh, I’ve stolen your clothes. Well, a t-shirt. That’s the only thing you had that fit me.”

“I’ve stolen your clothes too. I think… I must have a half dozen of your shirts. I’ll give you back all but one if you want them back.”

“Depends. If you keep the one, do I get to keep the one I stole?”

“Depends on which one you stole.”

“The heather gray Rutgers one you used to wear to the gym in Atlanta.”

“That’s where that went! I thought my fluff and fold lady had lost it!”

“Nope, I took it home with me after Cap 3.”

“I have your grey Under Armor shirt from Winter Soldier, your navy henley, your black henley, your gray sweater from the Civil War press tour, uh… one of your white Hanes undershirts, I might have more than one of those actually, your SHIELD t-shirt from when we trained for Winter Soldier and… I’ll give all of those back right now if I can keep your Patriots t-shirt with Tom Brady’s name and number on the back.”

“YOU stole my Brady shirtsey?”

“Yep. No regrets, no apologies.” 

“You can keep the Under Armor and the SHIELD shirt if I can have the Brady tee, the gray sweater and the henleys back. I can probably live without the Hanes undershirts too. Hell, keep all of them and give me back the Patriots shirt.”

“Fine. Whatever. Keep my Rutgers shirt.” Sebastian did something very close to a flounce out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom. He pulled his dresser drawer open and began pulling t-shirts out and throwing them on the bed.

“Navy henley, black henley, grey sweater...” He checked the size on the white Hanes t-shirt. “One Hanes t-shirt. And…”

Sebastian dug a little deeper and pulled out a burgundy henley with the Patriots shirt.

“Oh, you kept Bucky’s henley…” Chris stood in the doorway, but wouldn’t breach the threshold. He wouldn’t look Sebastian in the face.

“Yeah, here’s your Brady tee. The rest… is there.” He handed the shirt to him and motioned for Chris to come in and collect his items. Chris stepped into the room, nearly ran over to the bed, picked up the small pile of fabric and came very close to sprinting down the hall.

“What the fuck, Chris?” Sebastian followed him out and down to the guest room. Chris was shoving his returned property into his bag. Sebastian leaned against the door frame. “What the actual fuck?” 

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t want to be in your room.”

“What the what?”

“It probably doesn’t occur to you because you live here, but your bedroom, your bed… Do you even remember the last time I was in your bed?”

_The memory nearly took him out at the knees when it hit him._

_They’re a naked and wet mess of sweat, lube and come and he’s looking at Chris like he’s just hung the moon and the stars. They’re forehead to forehead mumbling words of love and devotion into each other’s lips and it’s perfect and..._

Sebastian grabbed the doorknob to steady himself.

“I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.”

“I’m going to have a shower.” Chris waved at him and pulled his toiletry bag out of his suitcase.

“If you need anything, just yell.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

Sebastian went into the kitchen, poured himself four fingers of bourbon, stepped out into the midnight air and lit another smoke. He stood at the railing and searched the sky for Mars. It would disappear from Earth’s view in just a few days and he wanted to make sure he saw it with Chris. Looking at the time he realized that Mars had set about an hour ago. He’d missed it and his heart sank. He hung his head low.

“Hey,” Chris called from the doorway. “I’m going to turn in.”

“Yeah. We missed seeing Mars.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. Bummer.”

“What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“I have to be to LaGuardia by 7:30, 8 at the latest. Tomorrow night.”

“What were your plans for tomorrow?”

“I was going to get out of your hair. See if Scarlett and Rose want to do something. Barring that, I was going to take in one or more of the vaunted cultural institutions in the city. Or see if I can scalp a ticket to the Hamilton matinee. Or sit in the Delta lounge at the airport all day. I don’t fucking know.” Chris studied the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I have to train tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back by 10:30. Want me to bring some coffee and light breakfast-y things home and we can smoke some more until you can do whatever it is you want to do tomorrow?”

“That would be great.”

“I’ll leave a key by the door for you if you want to go to the bodega or for a run or something.”

“That’d be great too.”

“Goodnight, Chris.” Sebastian stepped toward the door to hug Chris but by the time he got there Chris was already halfway to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's navy blue bathrobe
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/B2wZg7cF-5d/


	12. SoHo apartment building lobby, sometime around 10 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The part with the grand gesture.

Craig opened the door for Sebastian as he returned bearing a gym bag, a box of pastries and fruit, and a tray with Starbucks hot beverages.

“Mr. Stan, I have something for you.”

He stepped behind the desk and retrieved a key with a Captain America shield keychain.

“Mr. Evans returned this when he left. Said he locked up behind him and to tell you thanks for the place to crash.”

In that moment, he wished Craig had cold-cocked him in the face instead of telling him that.

“Oh.” Sebastian tried to look like he was expecting that instead of having his guts spilling out on the pristine lobby floor. “You like lattes, Craig?”

“I really do.”

Sebastian set down his gym bag and pulled the drink from the tray. “There you go. Enjoy.”

He walked to the elevator and showed incredible restraint when he didn’t punch the button with a closed fist. He got on the elevator and didn’t smash all the buttons with his closed fist. He got to his door and used his own set of keys to open it instead of kicking it in and then setting the place on fire.

He was going to have to be okay with not being okay. He was a grownup. He could do this. Even though everything sucked.

When he put his bag down and set his drink and pastry box down on the kitchen island he saw the note. It was Chris’ scrawl on a torn-off piece of a Whole Foods bag.

__

_S -_

_Thank you for everything. Thank you for the past 24 hours. Thank you for the past 9 years. Thank you for your love and your kindness. You are the love of my life. I will always love you. I’m a huge coward too and I couldn’t bear to watch you walk away today. I promise I will take your calls no matter what time of day. I am good for bail up to and including second degree murder. I promise I will bring you cronuts and Starbucks when you’re hungover and borscht and latkes when you’re sick. And I promise you, Sebastian Stan, that I will love you forever, in this and all universes, until the end of time. If our simulation gets rebooted, I will love you again._

_Tonight at 10 PM, I’ll be searching the night sky for Mars and because I know you love me, I know you’ll be searching too. Mars leaves our heavens in a few days, but it will be back in October in the morning sky. On October 16, I’m going to get drunk, stay up and search for it at about 4:30 AM. If you can join me then, let me know._

_My parting gift should arrive before 11 AM. Text me when you get it or if you haven’t received it by noon._

_This was the end of everything and I’m sorry for all the times I let you down._

_Let me know if you’re ever in Boston or LA, if I’m around I will always make time for you. I’ll let you know the next time I’m in New York and I’m not going to promise that I won’t have a day long stop-over for no good reason._

_You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Thank you for changing my life. Don’t look back._

_\- C_

The telescope arrived at 11:11 AM and the card attached said…

**If you’re lying awake at night, point this to the western sky. Know that’s where I’ll be looking when I feel a part of my soul is missing.**

“You Fucker…” was the text he sent to Chris.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of the Line

In loving memory of 

EvanStan - 2010 - 2019

Stucky - 1930 - 2023


End file.
